treasure. But I also felt sad that we’d found Jim and Martin. I could tell that George and Charlie and Max felt the same. Our trip back was quiet, no one saying much, the only sounds the screeching whine of the Piaggio. After we parked the car in the car park and unloaded the tray Dad and Barney paused for a moment.
“Ok. Everyone listen up” said Dad. “I know it was sobering to find Jim and Martin, and I know we all feel a bid sad about that. But I want you to cheer up. I want you to know that you’ve all done something great. That we’ve all done something great. This is going to mean a lot to so many people.” When Dad said this I felt my spirits lift. George and Max started to smile too, and Charlie’s face brightened.
Dad put his hand around Barney’s shoulder. “We’re a great team, but without Barney’s guidance we wouldn’t have found anything. Hats off to Barney.” Barney went bright red and started fumbling with his pipe.
“Oh and it be nothin’. Not really.”
“Don’t forget Mrs. Mahoney” piped Charlie.
“We wont forget anyone” said Dad. “But be warned. Once we break the news on this the place will probably be crawling with people. I think it will make Polperro famous. Are you ready?”
“Yes” we all shouted.
“Ok Barney?” asked Dad.
“Ok” smiled Barney.
“Then let’s go” said Dad. “Let’s go tell everyone that Jimmy Herriott is coming home.”
Epilogue
‘May 1, 2002
Dear Andrew, Sheila, lads and lasses,
I find it hard to believe that already it is these six months gone that we had our great adventure. There’s so many things have happened I knew it was time to write. The winter has been hard but I have spent much time out on the shallows off Smugglers Cove. The catch is always excellent and has often blessed Amos’s table. But the westerlies have done their worst and everywhere I see now the signs of the springtime. The headlands are covered in wildflowers and the water is warm. Last week, when I fished off the wreck, I could see her clear, which I could not do since last October.
I have painted the Good Myrtle, a nice dove grey mind you, and will take her out again this next weekend. Amos Puck is also painting the Cod’s Roe, but a colour you would like not to believe. He says it is called chartreuse and, to be true, it looks to me as if the colour of chum in a strong current. Though Mrs. Mahoney likes it, and told me so when she came to dinner this last week. She sends her regards and said to tell you that she has an assistant now, from the Admiralty, but more about that later.
What with all the fuss after the discovery of Jim and Martin and the gold, Looe and Polperro were right crawling with the Admiralty and the Revenooer for weeks. It seemed like they would never go. And the television people too. And their cars and trucks, with antennas and cables all over them. Why they even camped one night outside Mrs. Mahoney’s library. Looking to get in and take some pictures they were. Amos and Petra said it was like summer holidays, with the clamouring and all for lodging and food. But both Amos and Petra looked right pleased I must say.
And the Admiralty too was right interested in Rohan’s map. I suppose they were pleased to correct their own maps. And the Revenooer was after the gold of course. It is hard to believe, indeed, that nothing has changed in over two hundred years. The Revenooer wanted the gold in 1737 and still they want it. I guess it just proves what we said before – that they never give up. I am told, though, that some of the gold doubloons be on display in the Tower of London. So you can see them there if you be wanting.
After the Admiralty and the Revenooer and the television folk all left we heard nothing for a long time. I must say I thought they had forgotten us. I went forth often in the Good Myrtle and, as December approached, I wondered at what might occur. And so it was, on the eve of December 6, that the Myrtle and I rode low in the water, not far off the Maw. The weather was poor, with mist and rain, and the sea ran foul over the Rocks of Gold. Our anchor was firm set, but as it darkened I worried greatly. Finally the hour of 9 o’clock came, and though I waited and watched until nigh on 10 o’clock, no ghost did I see. I will go again every December but I believe now that the ghost of Jim has been put to rest. I must say this gives me great comfort.
Then, in March, a man from the Ministry of Education arrived. A meeting was called in the Polperro Town Hall and it was announced that the school in Looe was to re-open at the beginning of April. And with a new teacher mind you. The townsfolk were overjoyed, that’s for sure.
Two weeks later the Admiralty sent down a young man to work with Mrs. Mahoney. She says he is to stay for twelve months to catalogue the maps and journals and registers. She says that the Admiralty is calling her library a ‘national treasure’.
The school is now open this last month and has twenty children. And Petra has a new awning on her shop and is putting chairs and tables in the front. She says that she will serve lartays, whatever that is, and that she will add hamburgers to the menu.
I drive up to the cemetery now and then to visit Leslie and Jim and Purtaph and Rohan. Strange it might be but it seems that I know these men. I feel that we joined with them in a great endeavor, and that we finished the search that they began, in 1737. Jim is home with his family, where he rightly belongs, and so is Martin Haggley. I sometimes get a tear in my eye when I think of these brave men and their hopes, and I am glad that we were able to bring those hopes to life. To be sure, the children of Looe and Polperro will never haul the lines and nets of the fishers, or toil long hours in the powder mill, but the school is no less a boon.
And so, me young friends, it be a fine end to a fine story. And after so long and all. Who would have thought it could ever be. I tips my hat to you and your Dad. He be a right good man and lucky to have such fine hands. And Amos and me, we would be right pleased if you were to come again to Polperro. What with the Good Myrtle having a new motor and Amos now tryin’ the Frog food, why Polperro be better than Blackpool.
Always your friend
Barney Applegate
1 Cockleshell Lane
Polperro’
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The Ghost of Smugglers Run Page 20
